Oathkeeper, p.21
Oathkeeper, page 21
“Maybe after you’ve cleaned up a bit?” Wincing, eyes closed against the sight, when she opened them again the moment had passed. Kholster stood before her in his warsuit, looking every bit the grim impassive gatherer of souls, which stood so at odds with Torgrimm’s welcoming appearance.
“Now who has their armor on?” She scooped up her doublet. “How long do I have to let this—” Reaching back, she felt scars on her back. Not wounds, but scars already formed. “You healed them?”
“Sorry,” Kholster said, his voice echoing behind the horned skull helm. “I should have asked. Vax can reopen them if you like.”
“Kholster. Wait.” The tone, the awkward stance, the way his gaze fixed on a point right above her head, not actually at her. Wylant recognized them all as signs of what she called a Kholsterian dismissal. He did it whenever he wanted to brood—pondering, he called it—only now, she couldn’t walk into the hall after him; he could vanish to wherever it was gods went, conveniently sidestepping all attempts at pursuit. “We have to talk about Vax.”
“Yes.” His saddlebags snapped into place on his armor, his warpick already clinging to the warsuit’s back. “The two of you have much to discuss. If you still intend to pass your bridal gift on to Rae’en, I’ve made adjustments so that it will fit her properly.”
“Excellent.” She was halfway through buttoning her doublet. “Thank you, but, Kholster, I can’t talk to Vax. I think he hears me, yes, but—”
“Whose scars are on your back?”
“Yours, but—”
“Then hold your soul-bonded weapon and he will hear you. My scars are on his back as well. My blood ingested and now inscribed should have completed the faulty connection between the two of you.”
“Vax?” Wylant tentatively allowed her skin to touch his leather hilt.
Yes, Master Mother?
Master Mother? If she had ever received a greater injury than the one inflicted by that title, Wylant could not recall it at that moment. Please—she caught the order, changing it to an opinion Vax could either address or ignore. I prefer Mother, but you can call me whatever you like. Even Wylant, if that is amenable.
“Khol—” She looked up, but he was gone.
You want him to come back, Mother? Vax thought at her. He is there whenever mortals die. So we could kill someone or . . . he also told me whenever you call his name, he can hear you. He will come when you call, if it is within his power . . . and appropriate.
Too much information.
Dienox.
Vax.
Kholster and his scars.
Returning memories.
She walked out on the balcony, Port Ammond unfolding below her, to find Silencer looking up at her from the street. She’d felt like he’d been giving her strange looks back at Oot, lingering on her like an irkanth stalking a deer.
“I do not have time to worry about what the Bone Finders want,” she told no one.
Can we give my sister her armor now, Mother? Vax thought. I want to see how you like your new armor as well.
“What new armor?” A chill breeze blew across the balcony, stinging her cheeks. Below, in the market, a child laughed and dogs barked.
It awaits you at Fort Sunder, Mother, Vax told her. Father and I made it.
Which means there is something at or on the way to Fort Sunder he wants me to see. What did we miss? Her mind turned to Zaur tunnels and warsuits. If he didn’t hope to reveal intelligence to me, he would have presented me with the armor here. Wouldn’t he? Unless there was something about the armor itself that required it be viewed at Fort Sunder. . . .
“Come along, then, Vax,” she told her son. “Let’s go see your sister.”
CHAPTER 20
A NUMBER OF NEEDLES
Personal appearance had never meant much to Rae’en. Back in South Number Nine, she hadn’t even owned a mirror. Looking into the full-length mirror featured so prominently in her palace guest room brought on a frown. It irked her, the way this silver-backed glass was meant to fill a role her own unit should have handled. If an Aern needed to be dressed and styled in a specific way, they helped each other. Why use a mirror when you could look through the eyes of your Overwatches? Or was that only a kholster and Overwatch thing? Even so, clad in her new armor, she couldn’t stop looking at the fierce young warrior in the looking glass.
I think it’s a privacy thing, Vander sent her. The armor looks nice on you. When did Kholster make the alterations?
Kholster? Rae’en squinted, studying the half breastplate for whatever Vander had seen.
He’s gotten better at rolling edges over the centuries. In several spots, the alterations to the armor glowed gold as Vander highlighted the changes. If you look at some of the detail-work, he’s retouched it, smoothing out lines and sharpening the definition. An image of the original ensemble floated, rotating on the right side of her field of vision.
All the leather is new, too, Rae’en added. Isn’t it?
I think so, Vander thought back, but I wonder how he broke it in so quickly.
Maybe one of the museum docents? Rae’en thought.
Smell it. Vander transmitted a scent. Leather on which Kholster has worked and taken time attains a distinctive aroma. Sharp and rich, an undertone of his blood.
Rae’en took a deep breath. Vander was right. It smelled like Kholster.
That’s not why I interrupted, though, Vander sent. Prince Rivvek is requesting that you partake in the Test of Four.
In what way? Rae’en rolled her eyes and let loose a low growl. Rivvek was slowing everything down.
Let me show you?
Go ahead. Her current surroundings dropped away, subsumed by a view of the throne room. Platforms (once floating, based on memories Kholster had shared in his All Knows) hung at varying levels supported by crystalline lattices. Delicate tile-work on each platform showed stylized representations of Aeromancy, Geomancy, Hydromancy, Pyromancy, and the gears-within-gears symbol of the Artificers.
Reminiscent of the Tower of Elementals she’d viewed at Grivek’s funeral, the throne room centered on a ragged-edged square of unknown metal alloy. Partially melted on one side, the gray square looked as though it had been torn free from some larger object. Upon its surface, four bowls, one filled with water, one with soil, one with kindling, and a final empty bowl were arranged around a single massive carnelian-colored candle.
Dragon tallow candle, Vander thought at her. I wonder how many of those they have left.
Four steps, each emblazoned with an elemental symbol, led up to a throne carved of a massive slab of granite, the Throne of Villok. Behind it, an open, uncurtained veranda overlooked the docks and the Bay of Balsiph. Vander moved past Eldrennai going about various preparation, dusting and polishing, to stand in the middle of the room where he spun in a slow circle so she could see the tiered seating on either side of the room, not lower than the king but on an equal level.
Don’t most kings loom over their subjects? Rae’en asked.
It’s said Villok felt anyone who had to look down on his subjects to rule them was unfit to hold the throne. Vander zoomed in on the open space behind the throne and then back at the entryway, which was also open, without a door. He felt the same way about being able to seal off the throne room.
He wants you to sit on the throne, he said as he jumped up the steps and rested his hands on the stone, as its ceremonial guardian until Rivvek passes, fails, or abandons the Test of Four.
Why not Wylant? Rae’en’s view returned to normal.
She informed the prince she would be unable to attend the ceremony shortly after she delivered your new armor. I couldn’t hear what was said, but Amber was close enough to catch some of it. Wylant mentioned Fort Sunder and flew off without her Sidearms.
Kholster Rae’en, Bloodmane’s echoing voice intoned.
Wait your turn, she thought at Bloodmane. To Vander, she thought, Did any of the Armored see her leave?
Two Bone Finders, Vander shot back. Why?
Ask Zhan if he minds having one of them follow her—
He says, Vander replied, Alysaundra already is and that the Ossuary will be happy to share this information with the Aernese army.
Thanks. She sat down on the floor, not wanting to muss up a bed one of the maids had taken such pains to make. Stone felt better against her, more reliable than the soft mattresses Oathbreakers preferred. Tell Rivvek I’ll defend his throne ceremonially, as long as that’s all there is to it.
Scooting clear of the wall, Rae’en lay down, eyes closed. Willing her heart to slow down, her breath to come in a slow controlled rhythm, only then did she look through Bloodmane’s eyes.
Fire flowed around him as he and his warsuits slew Zaur after Zaur. His helm tilted up, giving a signal to Oathbreaker elemancers. Behind his team, the stone tunnel collapsed, forcing a wave of flames explosively forward. Oathbreaker lancers dived down on any Zaur foolish enough to believe there was anywhere to flee. Dark-scaled reptilian bodies burned as they screamed and died.
What do you want?
We are killing many Zaur, but I have a concern. Bloodmane swung Hunger one-handed, piercing a brown-scaled Zaur’s chest. With a gurgling hiss another Zaur leapt at him, Skreel blades sparking on his helm with little effect. Catching it by the throat, Bloodmane crushed its windpipe and spine. Tossing it aside he moved on to the next batch of attackers.
It’s a slaughter. Rae’en thought. What’s so concerning about that?
Everywhere we suspect we will find a tunnel, we do. Bloodmane dropped Hunger, letting the warpick cling to his leg plate. Hands free, he tore an attacker in half, gore covering him.
That doesn’t sound like a problem to me, Makerslayer, Rae’en sent the warsuit.
Each tunnel also holds an identical complement of Zaur. Molten rock hissed under Bloodmane’s boots, the dead he cast aside steaming and splitting open as the rock pushed them along with its flow.
Identical how?
Bloodmane pulled himself free of the rock, trudging out of the tunnel when the Oathbreakers and warsuits joined him. Shouts of victory went up from the Oathbreakers, but the warsuits kept their silence, steam rising off of them as they cooled.
There are one hundred and thirteen Zaur, Bloodmane told her, transmitting highlights from each of the seven engagements that he had led. Even in the central tunnel.
It’s a prime number? Rae’en thought churlishly. So? What?
Exactly one hundred and thirteen Zaur in each engagement.
Vander? Rae’en sent.
Eyes of Vengeance says it has been the same for his engagements, Vander answered. Look at this.
Point of view shifting, Rae’en watched as Eyes of Vengeance charged to the back of a line of Zaur where slightly larger Zaur with scales in different patterns waited to die when the Geomancers collapsed the tunnels.
In the beginning, Eyes of Vengeance told her, I thought these were the Sri’Zaur Wylant and you described—
No. Rae’en sent back an image of the Zaur she had seen. They look like this.
“I didn’t share the information because I was mad at Bloodmane,” Rae’en whispered. “Idiot. Vander didn’t ask me much about them because he has more experience with Zaur than I do and since I couldn’t show him a Zaurruk. . . . Blast!”
Ah. Eyes of Vengeance seized one by the back of the neck and hoisted him aloft. With a swipe of his gauntlets, the zigzag lines of electric blue smeared across its scales. And may I assume—
No, Rae’en sent, the patterns I saw don’t rub off. They’re real, like a snake’s or a lizard’s.
I fear we are doing, Bloodmane cut in, exactly what this Warlord Xastix wants us to do, destroying only the decoy emplacements he intended us to find.
What did Skinner find at Kevari Pass? Rae’en asked.
Nothing unusual, Bloodmane, Eyes of Vengeance, and Vander answered all at once.
And he is our best scout?
No, Vander answered. Those would be Eyes of Vengeance, Scout, Hunter, Scale Fist—
Why did you send someone to Kevari Pass? Rae’en sent the thought to Bloodmane, but Eyes of Vengeance answered.
General Bloodmane did not choose to send Skinner. I did.
General? Rae’en asked. Why General Bloodmane, not kholster Bloodmane?
Because, though I did not mean for my maker to die, I do not deserve to bear his name . . . even as a rank, Bloodmane answered.
Rae’en had never felt anything like the waves of grief that flowed with those thoughts, not from anywhere outside herself.
Even though that is what he called me. The Eldrennai dubbed me General Bloodmane and . . . it feels less abominable to answer to that name. I mean no disrespect. Quite the opposite—
Shut up, Rae’en ordered. Taking a moment to look through no one’s eyes but her own, she examined the red that showed through the lids of her eyes from the light outside her window.
Look. I’m going to forgive you. . . . Rae’en sent to Bloodmane. Just give me time. Know that I’m going to be rude, even when you don’t deserve it. I miss him and I blame you even though I know . . . I really do know that it wasn’t your fault, that he saw an opportunity and took it for reasons I don’t fully understand. But I can’t be mad at him, so I’m mad at you.
Thank you. Bloodmane’s voice echoed. Take as much time as you need.
Where is Skinner now?
I . . . Bloodmane’s voice dipped low. I cannot find him. Eyes of Vengeance, can you—?
No, Eyes of Vengeance answered. I have a bad feeling about this.
Who is Skinner’s Aern?
Miryndal, Bloodmane told her.
I don’t recall that name, Rae’en sent. Is she an Overwatch? A kholster?
She’s a grunt, Vander thought at her, in Mokk’s kholstering.
Mokk is Ambush’s maker, Bloodmane added.
Where is she? Rae’en got up off the floor, pacing to the side of the bed where Testament and Grudge were propped. Slinging her warpick over her right shoulder and her father’s over her left she took a deep breath. She brought to mind her interactions with her father, when he was happy and when he was sad or upset. He always kept an even temper with her and with his troops. The enemy could go to any of the Bone Queen’s hells they like, but to be Aern was to be family.
Mokk is checking, Vander cut in.
Why doesn’t he know? Rae’en asked with thoughts like clear water on calm seas.
Everyone who wanted to has been restoring the barracks to habitable levels. Vander sent with the thoughts images of plans underway and sites already completed. Opening up our old berths—where they still exist. There were plenty of volunteers, so many of the grunts are drilling or reading. Catching up on extra sleep. We’re all Armored, so with every soldier only a thought away . . .
Not every soldier. Rae’en opened the door to her room, surprised to find no guards there. Was that blood? She sniffed the air and brought both warpicks to the ready before she noticed the dead Oathbreaker. One needle-thin dagger clanged off of Testament, the other caught her in the side of the knee.
Pushing away the pain, she whirled on the injured leg, knowing the knee would give, not caring.
Bloodmane howled in agony as her attacker struck home again, sliding the weapon up to the hilt into her side.
It hurts, Bloodmane, Rae’en thought. But not that badly.
No reply.
Colors bled together on the wall, rippling mirage-like in the same way the air did over the Guild Commerce Highway when the suns were high. She struck at the discoloration, Testament rending flesh and scale, the near-black, iron-saturated blood of the Zaur coating her weapon. With the strike, the Zaur’s—no, the Sri’Zaur’s, she self-corrected—scales pulsed gray then black as if trying to adapt to its surroundings and blend in despite the wound.
It tapped something in Zaurtol with its tail and hurled its weapons. Rae’en took one of the slender blades to the palm in order to catch it, but the other was snatched from the air by another camouflaged Sri’Zaur.
She reached out for Vander, then for Bloodmane, and found nothing but mindquiet in their places.
Hoping it would help, Rae’en shifted her vision to thermal imaging, the back of her eyeballs growing cold. She cursed under her breath. It wasn’t much better that way either, as if her attackers were the same temperature as the walls and floor. How many of them are there? Hearing the scrape of claws on stone, Rae’en rolled back into the guest room. She snatched Grudge from her back, catching the weapon with the side of her hand and holding it there with the attraction that Aern exploited over all bone-steel items.
—an you hear me? Bloodmane’s voice snapped back into her mind. Oh, thank Kholster you’re back. What happened?
I’m not sure, but— Rae’en began to think back.
Kholster Rae’en! Vander shouted in her mind. I’m nearly there. I—
“Bird squirt!” He vanished from her mind. Rae’en roared, “ALL KNOW!” transmitting the last few seconds to any Aern who could hear her . . . no longer certain that it reached all of her people.
Incoming, Amber’s voice filled Rae’en’s mind as she took the lead in Vander’s absence. I see Vander, ma’am. She sent a snap image: Vander on blue carpet, warding off unseen blows with Spite, his warpick. He’s hurt, but I think the two of—
And then Amber was gone, too.
Bloodmane, what is happening?!, Rae’en thought angrily. Then, Never mind.
Where are Vander and Amber? Rae’en ran back through the snippet she’d gotten from both of them. Blue Carpet. Okay, so where did that put them? Was that the sea corridor or the corridor of breeze? Remembering her way quickly back through the short walk-through after the Oathbreaker king’s funeral, she’d seen several different patterns.
Think, Rae’en, she berated herself. The corridor of breezes was a diamond pattern of white, gray, and turquoise. Rae’en was about to charge back into the hall when Feagus painted his visuals across the whole of her field of vision. Losing her balance, Rae’en crashed into the doorframe with the muffled metallic sound of bone-steel on wood. The wood lost.
